Monday, April 07, 2008


So, THAT'S the new Wembley stadium then? I went along on Saturday to check out West Brom vs Portsmouth in the FA Cup semi-final. I didn't pay, which was just as well, cos the only drinks available were plastic bottles of Carlsberg piss ((a generous £3.50 each)). For the suckers who hadn't eaten before the match, there was some modestly priced fare ((cheeseburger and chips=£7.99, fish and chips= £8.99)). The whole stadium feels like an airport, with just as many pointless security men bimbling around, the worst being the porkers in blue jackets with RESPONSE UNIT stamped on the backs.

Alcohol is forbidden during the match, and the Response Unit are the bods who ensure nobody returns to their seats with their warm Carlsberg hidden in a cardboard Coca Cola beaker. Smoking is also forbidden anywhere in the stadium but, after the match, me and a couple of people managed to sneak into the rows at Block 244 and took photos of each other lighting up against the Wembley backdrop for posterity, minutes before the Response Unit came hobbling towards us. Maybe they were scared we'd set fire to all the concrete.

Oh yeah, the game. Well, it was crap, to be honest. I wanted West Brom to win, only cos I think Portsmouth's Play up Pompey...Pompey play up! chant is feeble, and I've probably met more cool Southampton fans in my time. West Brom, of course, go for "Poing" by Rotterdam Termination Source, though the best chants were on their way into the ground, when a load of Baggies fans surrounded a speaker playing the perennial rocksteady classic Liquidator, yelling "FUCK OFF PORTSMOUTH....WEST BROM!" over the swirling organ loop in the 'chorus' bit. Anyway, I've made enough enemies online in 4 years of this blogging schtick, so let's just say I was 'neutral'. The game was dull, the weather was cold, New Wembley sucks. Bring back the upper tier toilets that were basically a trough nailed into a brickwork shed...

Sporting event of the weekend, though, has to be the Olympic Flame being snatched away from Konnie Huq. I really detest this vacuous cow - just check out the slow-motion news footage of her face, as the protester makes a grab for the torch. See what I mean? No emotional response. The rictus grin remains, her eyes like buttons in a stuffed bear's head. You could shoot a couple of orphans in front of her, and you'd be lucky if she gave an "Oh, my" and jerked her neck slightly, before resuming her ghoulish 1,000-yard stare and flashing the kind of pseudo-smile they force students to adopt for college brochures, to show that life's all sexy and funky on the Ancient History and Social Anthropology course. To hell with her and all Olympics celebrations! Still, nice to see the filth get some exercise.

By the way, if any of you bet on Hedgehunter...ha ha, tough shit. What you SHOULD have done was put your hand in your pocket, and invested heavily in my 'Occult Horse Racing System' - the initiates to which are now chortling their way to the bank, after I successfully identified Comply or Die as the winning nag. I dunno, sometimes I wonder if people think I make this stuff up for a cheap snigger...
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